HARP
by teeney8040
Summary: Santana is trying to put the pieces of her broken personal life back together when she meets a beautiful stranger in the last place she expected. Her best friend is behaving strangely and a mysterious company seems bent on getting her to join their ranks. Nothing is what it seems, though, and it leaves her questioning everything and everyone.
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Okay, this is something I've been working on for quite a while but I've been keeping it under wraps. This is mainly a Santana story. Eventually it will be Brittana with a side of Faberry and a huge dose of Quinntana friendship. I hope you enjoy it!

**XX**

Long, slender fingers wrapped themselves a little tighter around the beer bottle cradled in her hands as a rumble of thunder nearly shook the foundation of her building. The lightning that quickly followed caused her dark eyes to wince and her hand to bring the bottle to her lips quickly.

Santana hated thunderstorms.

She loved the rain though. Something about it was calming and soothing and they usually helped lull her into sleep that too often eluded her, but the storms were enough to make her crazy. She could never sleep through the thunder, hating the way her heart always pounded in her chest with each flash of lightning streaking across the dark sky.

And of course she stubbornly refused to believe it had anything to do with the worst night of her life. She reasoned that lots of people were afraid of storms. Not that she was_ afraid_ of them…she just hated the sleep disruption.

Or at least that's what she told herself.

She stood from her chair and leaned against the railing, both palms cradling the warm bottle carefully as she leaned her forearms against the sleek metal railing. She stretched her spine, smiling when she felt several satisfying little pops of her vertebrae.

It was late, but Santana didn't really care. She hadn't been much of a sleeper lately. She hadn't been much of a sleeper for months if she was totally honest with herself. Since the night her entire family had been taken away from her.

She remembered the night like it was yesterday.

The way her mother had screamed, the smell of blood in the air, the way her father gripped her hand before he slipped away. It still took her breath away to think about it all.

It had been a rainy, stormy night similar to the one she was observing on her patio. Her parents had been in the city to visit and she'd taken them to a Broadway show. All it had taken was one moment of forgetfulness to change her life forever.

She'd forgotten her purse in the theater and had told her parents to go on without her and she'd meet them at the restaurant down the block. Her father left her his umbrella and joked with her mother how he'd keep them both dry under his coat and at the time it made Santana roll her eyes at their cuteness.

Ten minutes later it was like her worst nightmare unfolded before her eyes.

Her parents. Her mother and father being attacked. Killed. _Eaten_. Right before her eyes. She screamed causing the assailants to run, but not before she caught sight of the fangs glistening with blood in the moonlight. They had _fangs_.

She and her mother had sipped a few cocktails at the theater bar before the show. It was nothing. But she knew she must have been so far beyond tipsy to see fangs in their mouths. Because people didn't have fangs.

_If they had really been people_, she thought to herself.

She shook her head to rid her thoughts of the fangs and the blood and the rain and the way the humidity that night had caused the stink of copper to hang in the air around her as she cradled her mother's head in her lap as the sirens drew near.

"Now I'll never fucking sleep."

She dropped the beer bottle into the trash before heading back inside to retrieve another and she snagged a hoodie from the back of a chair on her way back outside.

She glanced down at her cell phone, balancing dangerously close to the edge of the railing, when it beeped at her, signaling a text message.

_Blu. One hour. Get your ass out of the house._

_Xo-Q_

She smiled in spite of her surly, depressed mood and mulled over her options as she yanked the hoodie sleeves over her chilly arms. She could stay in and drink miserably alone, or go out with some friends and at least pretend to be a well-adjusted adult.

She shrugged. _At least at the bar I can score some free drinks_, she thought with a smirk.

_See you there, bitch_

-S

**XX**

"Miss Lopez?"

Santana glanced up, finding a man in his twenties standing across the table from her a few days later.

"Yes," she replied warily.

"I'm Collin Davis," he replied with a bright smile, reaching into his coat to give her a card. As soon as she flipped it over and read the scrawl on the front she scowled.

"You're from HARP."

He nodded. "I am."

HARP was a company that seemed hell-bent on getting her to join their ranks, claiming they knew the truth about how her parents had been killed and how she could fight back.

She'd had about enough.

It had started a few months ago. A man approached her, telling her he had been sent from a company that could put a stop to the kind of attacks like the one that had taken Santana's parents from her. She'd caused a scene, furious that someone had approached her so totally insensitively so soon after her parents had been killed.

She was asked never to return to Starbucks ever again.

"Didn't your mothers ever teach you guys that no _literally_ means no?" she told him snidely, smirking when his choir-boy grin faded. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with this today. The way these guys seemed to know too much and insinuate even more was enough to make her insane.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if we've been rather…persistent. But we refuse to believe that someone like you would turn us down."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she growled, instantly going on the defensive. "You can't wave money and cars and clothes in my face and expect me to swoon."

"I'm not referring to your financial situation," he told her with another tentative smile. "We know your parents left you with a substantial trust fund." He glanced around to be sure no one was in earshot. "I was referring to the manner in which they were taken from you."

"And like I told the last guy, I was drunk and I'm not even sure what I saw that night," she told him with her nastiest glare. She pointed a finger at him when he moved the chair out across the table from her. "Don't sit."

He sat down anyways, completely ignoring her rapidly darkening expression and he leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "We have proof that what you saw that night was real, Miss Lopez. And they didn't need to be needlessly taken from you. They could have been spared that night."

"Don't you _dare_ say they were taken from me," she snarled, slapping her palm on the table, startling him and several people around them. She took a breath to calm herself down and met his gaze. "You saying they were taken implies that they can be given back and we both know that'll never happen. They were murdered."

"Forgive me," he told her softly, realizing he'd pushed too far and he stood up again.

"Not likely," she told him, practically growling and itching to pounce and knock his teeth out. "I think you need to leave."

He nodded. "Just give it some thought."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," she replied sarcastically, not meeting his gaze.

She set her gaze back on her book and watched from the corner of her eye as he walked off. Her eyes suddenly caught sight of a familiar blonde mop of shaggy hair and she inhaled deeply through her nose, knowing she needed to calm down before her friend arrived at the table.

Quinn took the seat opposite her and immediately glanced behind her where the HARP agent had just disappeared out into the snowy New York afternoon.

"Who was that?" Quinn asked as she got herself settled in the warmth of the coffee shop, shrugging her coat off and draping it over the back of her chair. She studied Santana carefully. "What's wrong?"

Santana gave a nonchalant shake of her head and sipped her mocha. "It was no one."

"Someone else asking for your number?" The corners of her lips were turned up in a teasing smile but something about those hazel eyes seemed troubled and Santana picked up on in right away.

"What is it?" Santana wondered, propping her chin in her hand.

Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly, her expression slightly panicked. "What?"

Something about Quinn's reaction had Santana instantly uneasy. "What's with the face? You okay?"

"It's the face I was born with," Quinn replied with a nervous laugh.

The laugh had another alarm bell going off in Santana's head. She frowned at her friend's strange behavior and she knew without a doubt that Quinn was hiding something from her. They'd known each other for twenty years, and with that kind of time came familiarity. "Are you alright?"

"I met someone," Quinn blurted out quickly, spitting out the absolute first thing to come to mind. She sighed like it was a relief to have that out in the open.

Santana instantly perked up, relieved to have gotten to the bottom of her best friend's behavior, and her eyes turned inquisitive on a dime, shining with mirth.

Suddenly Quinn wished she'd said _anything_ else.

"Who is she?" Santana asked immediately.

Quinn sighed, knowing her friend would never stop until she spilled enough so she decided to do things the easy way. "Rachel Berry."

"Broadway Rachel Berry?" Santana asked, looked rather impressed when Quinn nodded. "Wicked, right?" Quinn nodded again, this time her lips turning into a bit of a grin. "Was it the green makeup that won you over in the end?"

"Shut up," Quinn replied, giggling in spite of herself.

Santana smirked. "If you're telling me about her it must mean that you're kind of serious. Right?"

Quinn shrugged at that, her smile turning rather shy. "We're exclusive if that's what you mean."

"When can I meet her?" Santana asked. Quinn's eyes narrowed instantly and it made Santana laugh. "It's not like I'm gonna steal her. I know I'm hot, but she's really not my type."

"You said that about Ashley," Quinn reminded her with a playful glare.

"Oh please," Santana dismissed with a wave. "You didn't even like her to begin with. You only asked her out because I said I would if you didn't. Not my fault she wanted all up on this. Can't help how hot I am."

"You should just date yourself," Quinn replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Ha ha, Fabray," Santana grumbled with a smirk. "So really, when can I meet her?"

"Promise you'll be nice?" Quinn asked.

"When am I ever _not_ nice?" Santana replied instantly. They both paused. "Don't answer that. I'll be nice."

Quinn studied her carefully for a moment and nodded slowly. "Drinks tomorrow at Blu?"

"I'll be there," Santana replied. "Besides, it's not like I have much else going on these days."

Quinn frowned at that and searched her best friend's eyes. "Maybe it's time you changed that." She hoped she'd chosen her words carefully enough. This particular subject was a rather sore spot for the girl seated across from her and Quinn was never really sure how Santana would react. To her surprise Santana nodded.

"You're right."

Quinn was practically beaming she was so happy. "Rachel has some very cute friends if you want me to hook you up. Oh, and we're hiring right now at the firm. Want me to get you in touch with some people?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Princess, one step at a time," Santana ordered, her hands coming up and waiving Quinn down a little. "I'm not going to even consider dating someone until I have a job. Let's start there."

"Do you want me to set you up?" Quinn asked excitedly. "We have some openings in our division and you have a business degree. You'd fit right in."

Santana nodded slowly, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sure."

"This is gonna be so much fun…" Quinn began rambling, which allowed Santana to daydream, and the rest of the afternoon was spent quietly chatting away in the warm confines of a small coffeehouse on a cold, snowy day.

**XX**

"Fucking snow," Santana grumbled as she stepped into the rather small lobby area of Blu, a small, intimate, but popular bar that Quinn and Santana loved to frequent.

She spotted Quinn instantly, facing the door, snuggled up to a small brunette at a table in the corner. She waved when the blonde caught sight of her and made her way over to them slowly, bobbing and weaving around the waitresses and other patrons.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," Santana greeted as Quinn pulled her into a warm hug.

"Hi, sweetie," Quinn replied with a bright smile. "Rachel, this is my best friend, Santana Lopez. Santana, this is Rachel Berry."

"Hi," Santana greeted Rachel, who had turned to meet her with a radiant smile. It actually managed to catch Santana off guard. She'd seen Wicked with Quinn and knew the girl was an epic talent, but to see her up close without the green makeup she was stunning.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel greeted warmly. "It's so nice to meet you. Quinn's told me all about you."

Santana smirked in Quinn's direction. "It's all lies."

Quinn glared back playfully. "You wish it was."

"It's really nice to meet you, Rachel," Santana told the shorter girl with a smile as she shrugged off her coat and draped it over the spare chair at the table. The three girls took their seats and Santana waved the waitress over.

"A martini please," she ordered softly. She turned to her tablemates. "You two good?" When they both nodded, Santana nodded at the waitress and turned back to the two girls. "So how did you two meet?"

"A fundraiser," Quinn replied quickly, just as Rachel replied, "Backstage."

Santana gazed at them both, one slim eyebrow raised in question as they both seemed to blanch and stammer a bit at the other's answer until Quinn cleared her throat. "Backstage at a fundraiser."

"Exactly." Rachel nodded, and exchanged a rather flustered smile with Quinn.

"Mm hmm," Santana hummed, still watching them warily. Something very strange was going on with her blonde friend, but it wasn't the time or the place for it so she let it go.

"So, what do you do, Santana?" Rachel asked politely, steering the conversation away from the obvious tension.

Santana smiled a little when Quinn cringed and mouthed 'sorry' to her. "Actually I'm not working at the moment."

"Oh," Rachel replied. She shot a rather panicked look in Quinn's direction and smiled awkwardly at Santana. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Santana waved her off, easing any would-be tension. "I'm choosing not to work right now. It's not like I don't have offers. In fact I might be working with Quinn soon."

Recognition suddenly brightened Rachel's eyes and she shot a relieved look to Quinn. "Oh so she knows? Thank goodness."

"I know what?" Santana asked, seriously wondering what the hell was going on.

Before Rachel could say another word Quinn jumped so abruptly that she knocked her drink over, narrowly missing Santana's 300 dollar shoes and making all three girls jump up in shock.

"Quinn, what the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I felt something crawling on me," Quinn apologized.

Rachel squealed and jumped back from the table. "What is it?"

"Relax, sweetheart, I think it was Santana's shoe," Quinn coaxed her gently.

A waitress came over with some extra napkins and helped the girls clean up the spilled drink.

Santana watched Quinn with confused eyes and once they were settled again she resumed their conversation. "What is it that I know?"

"Hmm?" Quinn wondered, her eyes falling on Santana. She traced the conversation back until recognition flickered in her eyes and she shook her head. "Oh, just that we're hiring."

Santana allowed her eyes to trail to Rachel who seemed to be just as confused as she was about Quinn's behavior. "That makes no sense. What the hell is going on, Q?"

Quinn visibly blanched. "Just…" She sighed like she was getting ready to come clean about something and met Santana's eyes. "I told Rachel I would let her set you up after you got a job."

"Yes," Rachel chimed in stiffly, her eyes on Quinn for a long moment before settling on Santana again with a bright smile. "I thought that part was a secret."

"Are you two high?" Santana asked seriously.

Quinn suddenly burst out laughing, making Rachel smile at her adoringly and it was in that moment that Santana realized how lonely she was. It had been a long time since she'd had someone look at her like that.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Santana suggested, smiling at Quinn's giggle fit.

"Please," Quinn insisted. She smiled back at Rachel just as adoringly and reached out for her hand, making the pang in Santana's chest ache just a little more.

"So you two have known each other since you were little?" Rachel asked.

Santana nodded, sharing a grin with Quinn that could only be passed between two people who had shared more years of their lives together than apart. "I've known this bitch twenty years now."

"Lucky me, right?" Quinn deadpanned making them all laugh.

"You're both lucky," Rachel sighed dreamily. "I'm not really friends with anyone I grew up with anymore."

"Where are you from?" Santana asked.

"Lima, Ohio," Rachel told her with a shrug.

"Ohio to Broadway…impressive," Santana mused.

Rachel lit up like a Christmas tree then. "You've seen the show?"

"Of course," Santana replied. "You were phenomenal." She was being honest, and she didn't miss the grateful smile Quinn shot her in that moment, because obviously the compliment resonated with Rachel and Quinn was grateful that her best friend was getting along with her girlfriend so well.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fucking snow," Santana grumbled as she stepped into the rather small lobby area of Blu, a small, intimate, but popular bar that Quinn and Santana loved to frequent.

She spotted Quinn instantly, facing the door, snuggled up to a small brunette at a table in the corner. She waved when the blonde caught sight of her and made her way over to them slowly, bobbing and weaving around the waitresses and other patrons.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," Santana greeted as Quinn pulled her into a warm hug.

"Hi, sweetie," Quinn replied with a bright smile. "Rachel, this is my best friend, Santana Lopez. Santana, this is Rachel Berry."

"Hi," Santana greeted Rachel, who had turned to meet her with a radiant smile. It actually managed to catch Santana off guard. She'd seen Wicked with Quinn and knew the girl was an epic talent, but to see her up close without the green makeup she was stunning.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel greeted warmly. "It's so nice to meet you. Quinn's told me all about you."

Santana smirked in Quinn's direction. "It's all lies."

Quinn glared back playfully. "You wish it was."

"It's really nice to meet you, Rachel," Santana told the shorter girl with a smile as she shrugged off her coat and draped it over the spare chair at the table. The three girls took their seats and Santana waved the waitress over.

"A martini please," she ordered softly. She turned to her tablemates. "You two good?" When they both nodded, Santana nodded at the waitress and turned back to the two girls. "So how did you two meet?"

"A fundraiser," Quinn replied quickly, just as Rachel replied, "Backstage."

Santana gazed at them both, one slim eyebrow raised in question as they both seemed to blanch and stammer a bit at the other's answer until Quinn cleared her throat. "Backstage at a fundraiser."

"Exactly." Rachel nodded, and exchanged a rather flustered smile with Quinn.

"Mm hmm," Santana hummed, still watching them warily. Something very strange was going on with her blonde friend, but it wasn't the time or the place for it so she let it go.

"So, what do you do, Santana?" Rachel asked politely, steering the conversation away from the obvious tension.

Santana smiled a little when Quinn cringed and mouthed 'sorry' to her. "Actually I'm not working at the moment."

"Oh," Rachel replied. She shot a rather panicked look in Quinn's direction and smiled awkwardly at Santana. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Santana waved her off, easing any would-be tension. "I'm choosing not to work right now. It's not like I don't have offers. In fact I might be working with Quinn soon."

Recognition suddenly brightened Rachel's eyes and she shot a relieved look to Quinn. "Oh so she knows? Thank goodness."

"I know what?" Santana asked, seriously wondering what the hell was going on.

Before Rachel could say another word Quinn jumped so abruptly that she knocked her drink over, narrowly missing Santana's 300 dollar shoes and making all three girls jump up in shock.

"Quinn, what the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I felt something crawling on me," Quinn apologized.

Rachel squealed and jumped back from the table. "What is it?"

"Relax, sweetheart, I think it was Santana's shoe," Quinn coaxed her gently.

A waitress came over with some extra napkins and helped the girls clean up the spilled drink.

Santana watched Quinn with confused eyes and once they were settled again she resumed their conversation. "What is it that I know?"

"Hmm?" Quinn wondered, her eyes falling on Santana. She traced the conversation back until recognition flickered in her eyes and she shook her head. "Oh, just that we're hiring."

Santana allowed her eyes to trail to Rachel who seemed to be just as confused as she was about Quinn's behavior. "That makes no sense. What the hell is going on, Q?"

Quinn visibly blanched. "Just…" She sighed like she was getting ready to come clean about something and met Santana's eyes. "I told Rachel I would let her set you up after you got a job."

"Yes," Rachel chimed in stiffly, her eyes on Quinn for a long moment before settling on Santana again with a bright smile. "I thought that part was a secret."

"Are you two high?" Santana asked seriously.

Quinn suddenly burst out laughing, making Rachel smile at her adoringly and it was in that moment that Santana realized how lonely she was. It had been a long time since she'd had someone look at her like that.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Santana suggested, smiling at Quinn's giggle fit.

"Please," Quinn insisted. She smiled back at Rachel just as adoringly and reached out for her hand, making the pang in Santana's chest ache just a little more.

"So you two have known each other since you were little?" Rachel asked.

Santana nodded, sharing a grin with Quinn that could only be passed between two people who had shared more years of their lives together than apart. "I've known this bitch twenty years now."

"Lucky me, right?" Quinn deadpanned making them all laugh.

"You're both lucky," Rachel sighed dreamily. "I'm not really friends with anyone I grew up with anymore."

"Where are you from?" Santana asked.

"Lima, Ohio," Rachel told her with a shrug.

"Ohio to Broadway…impressive," Santana mused.

Rachel lit up like a Christmas tree then. "You've seen the show?"

"Of course," Santana replied. "You were phenomenal." She was being honest, and she didn't miss the grateful smile Quinn shot her in that moment, because obviously the compliment resonated with Rachel and Quinn was grateful that her best friend was getting along with her girlfriend so well.

**XX**

Santana stepped out of the cab and gazed up at the high-rise building before her, the sun reflecting off the glass brilliantly for nearly 70 stories above her. It was a cold, crisp, rare sunny day in the midst of the snow they'd had recently.

She took a deep breath to compose herself before squaring her shoulders and heading inside. She told herself this was a good idea as she passed through security. That even though she could live off her trust fund for the rest of her life didn't mean she had to rot away in her loft all alone.

She needed to rejoin society.

She rode the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor and stepped out into a warm lobby. There was a huge Christmas tree in the corner decorated with gorgeous, expensive decorations and music reached her ears from some hidden location and she recognized the soft instrumental chords of Silent Night.

Santana could tell instantly that everything - the lights, the furniture, the music – had all been carefully selected to make everyone that passed through the lobby to feel instantly at ease and at home.

It worked.

"Good morning, can I help you?" the receptionist asked with a bright, charming smile.

Santana instantly smiled back when she noticed how beautiful the girl was. "Hi. Santana Lopez. I have an interview with Walter Wright."

Recognition flickered in the blonde's eyes. "So you're the Santana that Quinn has been gushing about all these years."

Santana actually felt a little heat rise to her cheeks. "Eh, you know Quinn, pretty girl, not too bright."

The blonde laughed. "I'm Jamie." She extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Santana shook her hand; so glad it wasn't one of those flimsy girly handshakes she got far too often. "You too."

Jamie picked up the phone and pointed to the chairs with a smile. "You can have a seat and I'll let Walter know you're here."

"Thanks."

Santana took a seat, crossing one leg over the other and tapping her toes nervously. She heard Jamie murmuring quietly on the phone and a moment later the blonde stood and moved around to the side of her desk.

"Can I get you anything while you wait?" she asked. "Coffee, bottled water?"

Santana shook her head, swallowing hard because now she could see that Jamie was a total hottie. Tall, athletic and blonde…exactly her type. "I'm okay. Thank you."

Jamie smiled and moved down the hall and a moment later Quinn appeared.

"Hi," Quinn greeted with a smile.

Santana rose to hug her quickly. "Hi. How is it you never told me your receptionist is totally smokin'?"

"Because I knew you'd hit on her and if it turned out like the last six girls you hit on she'd end up in love and in tears and I'd never hear the end of it." Quinn was so matter-of-fact about it, it was almost as if she'd been expecting the question and had her answer prepared ahead of time. Which was most likely the case.

"You say it like I'm some kind of female Lothario," Santana replied sounding mildly offended.

Quinn just smirked. "I know you, my friend."

"This place is amazing," Santana noted as she gestured to the lobby around them.

"Just wait until you see the rest," Quinn told her with a grin. "And try to remember to keep an open mind, okay?"

"What?" Something about that statement seemed very odd in that moment. Santana had been pondering Quinn's odd behavior lately and something about that comment made her wonder if something strange was going on that she didn't know about.

"Never mind." She glanced up at the footsteps approaching and grinned. "Here's Walter."

"Your boss's boss, right?" Santana confirmed quietly. A subtle nod from Quinn was all she needed before she met Walter with a winning smile, her concerns about Quinn disappearing instantly.

"You must be Santana Lopez," he greeted, his hand extended and a smile on his face. He was older, graying hair, tall and obviously still in great shape. He had a firm handshake and his blue-grey eyes were weathered, but kind.

"It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Wright."

"Please, call me Walter, dear," he told her with a gentle smile. He placed a hand on her back carefully and steered towards the hallway to the side of Jamie's desk. "Come. Let's show you around, shall we?" He smiled at both girls, Quinn smiling back before nodding at Santana.

"Sure," she replied. Something was suddenly niggling in the back of her mind that she was in for a rather unique experience while she was in this particular office.

Walter led them down a hallway before reaching a 'T' in the corridor. Stretched out on either side of her were huge offices with glass walls. Most had large mahogany desks, apple desktop computers, flat screen televisions mounted on the wall and plush sofas. They suddenly stopped in front of one empty space.

"Now this would be your office," Walter told her. "Do with it as you like. Quinn is right next door to you. Any requests for furniture and such, just give to Jamie and she'll order them."

"I'm sorry," Santana interrupted, confusion written all over her flawless features. "My office? I thought this was just an interview."

"It's really more of a formality," Walter explained with a smile. "Let's finish the tour and if you don't like what you see you can turn us down, no hard feelings."

Santana could only nod mutely, noticing that Quinn suddenly refused to meet her gaze. Her instincts had been right. Something was going on and Quinn was obviously in on it and something about that rubbed Santana the wrong way.

The trio stepped into the elevator at the end of the hall. "Up or down first, Quinn?" Walter asked.

Quinn met Santana's eyes for a moment and smiled. "Up."

Walter smiled and suddenly any unease Santana had felt in the moments prior disappeared. Something about his presence, so warm and calm, it reminded her of her father, even though the two shared zero physical characteristics.

Over the next hour Santana was shown the coffee bar, the pool tables, the video games, the sauna, the gym, the massive cafeteria, and the movie screening room. She learned on their tour 'down' to the garage that she would receive a company car, basically of her choice, and a black card for work related purchases. It all seemed too good to be true.

Mostly because it was.

Because on the way back down the hallway lined with plush, glass offices Santana caught sight of something that made her stomach turn.

Some_one_ to be exact.

She was so stunned that she froze in place, unable to tear her eyes away from the man standing in the office twenty feet away from her. The one who had been sent repeatedly to recruit her into that freaking HARP organization.

Quinn glanced back at her gasp and followed Santana's eye line, frowning when she realized Santana had caught on before they wanted her to.

"Santana-,"

All the pieces suddenly clicked into place in her head, the last one practically 'clanking' loudly as it settled and she put it all together. Quinn's strange behavior at dinner, the comment about keeping an open mind, the refusal on Quinn's part to even tell her the job she was interviewing for.

It was because Quinn had been sent as the ultimate recruiter.

"What the hell is going on, Quinn?" she demanded, rather loudly, causing several people to glance their way. "You work here? For them?" She'd never felt more betrayed in her life.

"Santana, calm down," Quinn pleaded softly.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down," Santana ordered, her voice dangerously low, her chin tilted downward and those eyes penetrating to the point where Quinn was sure they were etching an invisible target on her heart.

"Please, Santana, let us explain, dear," Walter broke in gently.

Again Santana was thrown by the simple ebb and flow of his tone and the way he addressed her so casually, even though they'd just met. Her hands clenched at her sides.

"Give us ten minutes to explain, then you can hate me if you want to," Quinn begged softly as she stepped towards Santana, frowning slightly when the darker girl moved away.

"Ten minutes," Walter repeated softly. He met her eyes, urging her softly. "Please."

She glared at Quinn, her eyes shifting to Walter as her jaw clenched rather painfully. "Ten minutes." She pointed at Quinn. "You are so on my list."

Quinn nodded silently, knowing that was not a good thing, and trailed Santana as Walter led her down the hall to the more private conference room.

Once she was settled Walter began. "As you've already correctly assumed, you are within the walls of HARP. I'll keep this short because I know I don't have much time, but we want you to join us. If I'm perfectly honest, we _need_ you to join us. I know that you think that your parents were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that's not true. Your parents were founding members of this organization. Very active in the early stages, and as they grew older and had you they became silent partners." He paused to be sure he had her undivided attention. Her teary eyes were locked on him so he continued. "Your mother was one of a long line of powerful women that we have helped over the years. This isn't just your destiny, Santana. It's your birthright."

"Am I being punked?" Santana suddenly blurted out, completely reeling from the information about her parents. "You're basically ripping off Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's kind of tired at this point."

"I told you not to say that," Quinn interjected to Walter.

Walter rolled his eyes, obviously biting his tongue and sparing a moment for the blonde. "And as I told you when you came into your birthright, you're not a vampire _slayer_. You're a guide to the undead."

"Wait," Santana interrupted again, her eyes - fiery with betrayal and anger - on Quinn this time. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Quinn met her gaze and held it steady. "Santana, we've known each other since we were five. I'd never deliberately hurt you or put you in any danger. But you and I inherited our mothers' legacies. We have a purpose and us being friends didn't happen by chance. It was destiny. Our parents started this together and it's up to us to continue this. Together."

"You don't get to talk anymore," Santana replied, her tone icy and clipped. She glanced at her watch. "You have three minutes left."

Walter sighed. "The job comes with all the perks. A loft, a car, a black card, a substantial salary. But I won't lie, it's dangerous. And there aren't many of you out there that are born into the job. But we take great care of those who are."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, I told the last six guys you sent after me that the perks don't mean anything to me."

"What does mean something to you then?" Walter asked, suddenly changing his approach, knowing he had precious little time left. "Saving children from the devastation of losing a parent? Saving a parent from the horror of losing a child? Because that's what we do here. You can change the lives of countless people in this city." He paused. "There are very many things that exist in this world that the every day citizen would never suspect. Evil unlike any we've seen. Magic that could do more damage than we would ever recover from. I'm offering you a chance to change the world. I'm offering you a purpose in life that few ever get." He stood from his chair. "It's entirely up to you if you want to take what I'm offering. And I hope you do." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small envelope, setting it on the table and sliding it to Santana. "This won't explain everything, but it should help." He reached out and took her hand, shaking it gently and smiling warmly. "It was lovely to meet you, dear."

Santana was so completely stunned that she could barely offer a goodbye before he was gone and she was left alone with Quinn.

Santana was incredibly conflicted in that moment. She was confused by her reaction to everything Walter had laid out on the table before her, she was furious that Quinn had set her up and had been lying to her about everything, but mostly she was just sad. Sad that her parents had been a part of something huge and had never told her about it.

She remained lost and locked into her thoughts for several long minutes before she stood up wordlessly and headed for the door, swiping the envelope Walter had given her and stuffing it in her bag.

"Santana," Quinn cried out behind her. "Wait, please."

Santana stopped abruptly and faced the teary face of her oldest friend, betrayal burning in her eyes and pain aching in her chest. "If I talk to you right now it will get ugly, Quinn. So I really shouldn't."

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry," Quinn whispered.

Santana nodded once. "So am I."

XX

A.N. We meet Brittany next!


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Quick update…it's short, but sweet!

**XX**

If Blu was the bar she would frequent with Quinn to try to appear as though she was actually a well-adjusted human being like she told herself she was, then Mike's place was the place she went to sulk and be alone. There were no pool tables, no stage for bands to play. It was dark and quiet and cool and no one ever bothered her.

It was exactly what she needed.

She plunked unceremoniously onto the nearest barstool and managed to smile when the owner, Mike Chang, appeared before her with a grin. "Hey, Stranger."

"Hi, Mikey," Santana replied. She could feel the tension seep from her shoulders and the anger of the day melting away in the dark familiarity of her favorite bar.

"The usual?" he asked, sensing her mood.

She nodded. "And an extra shot on the side."

"You got it," he told her, winking as he began mixing her drink.

She felt herself start to relax for the first time in hours and she reached into her bag for her cigarettes. She lit the tip of one and sucked in one long breath, sighing the smoke from her lungs as she relaxed fully.

"You know, you really shouldn't smoke," a voice chimed in from behind Santana, causing her to scowl immediately. She didn't have many vices, but the one she did have she just wanted to be left the hell alone about.

Santana turned in her seat, primed to give the nosey bitch a piece of her mind, but the words died in her throat as soon as she turned and saw the girl.

She was all blonde curls and cheery smiles and she had the bluest eyes Santana had ever seen on a real person in her life. The blonde brushed by Santana to drop into the seat next to her and it was only then that Santana noticed the half empty glass on a damp napkin in the space next to her.

_How did I not notice that?_ she thought to herself. She usually made a point to sit as far away from other people as she could. She suddenly felt like she was slipping.

"Is she okay?" the blonde asked Mike, referring to Santana.

"San, you alright?" Mike asked.

"San?" the blonde repeated with a quirky little half-smile. "Is that your name? I'm Brittany."

_Of course it is_, Santana thought to herself. _Anyone that looks like her _has_ to be named Brittany._

"Santana," she replied, finally snapping out of it enough to form words. Then something strange happened. She watched - rather transfixed - as Brittany's face nearly split in two with a smile that absolutely lit her up from the inside.

Then something stranger happened. She smiled back.

"Like the guitar guy?" Brittany asked.

Santana rolled her eyes because she could never get away without someone asking her about Carlos Effing Santana. If her father had been alive she would have cursed him for it. But he wasn't so she didn't want to be disrespectful. Especially when she missed him and her mother so much she could barely breathe. And just like every other time she thought of her family it suddenly felt like she had turned herself inside out and showed someone else her big fat bleeding heart. It made her want to throw up.

"Like the guitar guy," Santana replied. She began to gather her things to move to a table in the back where she could be alone and sulk.

"Wait, where are you going?" Brittany asked, reaching out to grasp Santana's wrist gently. "Don't go. I'll stop asking stupid questions."

And for a moment Santana's brain actually went as far as to think maybe Brittany actually had seen her big fat stupid bleeding heart and she was pitying her. Then she realized she was being a completely stupid.

"It's not that," Santana told her with a shake of her head.

"Then don't go," Brittany insisted, giving the other girl's wrist a gentle tug. Her eyebrows rose and her lips turned into a hopeful smile and she even nodded her head, like nodding was going to further convince Santana that she should agree with what she was saying.

"You don't even know me," Santana reminded her, noting to herself that she hadn't moved. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because you're totally hot," Brittany blurted out suddenly. "And Mike's place never has any hot girls in here." She shot Mike an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Mikey."

Santana found herself totally thrown in that moment. Some beautiful girl was calling her hot and calling Mike by _her_ nickname and was grinning at her like a kid on Christmas day.

It was the strangest night of her life.

"It's a cop bar, Britt," Mike reminded her. "And it's kind of dank. Hot girls don't usually like dark, dank cop bars." He shot Santana a wink. "Sorry, San."

"Are you a cop?" Brittany suddenly asked, her eyes wide and mischievous suddenly and her grin contagious.

Santana shook her head. "No. Not a cop."

"Hmm," Brittany mused. She suddenly tilted her head and studied Santana for a moment. It was in that moment that Santana made a conscious decision not to move to a table in the back. Brittany must have noticed her settle in her seat because she grinned. "I didn't think so. You don't look like a cop."

"Oh yeah?" Santana questioned, her favorite flirty voice suddenly appearing. Brittany noticed that too, because her smile shifted into a bit of a smirk and Santana had to admit it was one of the hottest things she'd ever seen. "What do cops look like?"

"Fat, old, bald," Brittany rattled off without really thinking then she leaned in close to Santana and cupped her hand around her mouth like she was about to share all life's secrets, and damn if Santana didn't buy into the whole act because she leaned forward and grinned right back, totally caught up in the moment with this beautiful creature. "Kind of like everyone in here that isn't you, me or Mikey."

"Britt," Mike interrupted suddenly.

Santana wanted to kill him for it, because Brittany looked away and the spell was broken just like that and she felt like a total idiot for getting swept away by a gorgeous stranger.

He grinned knowingly at both girls. "I hate to break up the girl huddle, but if we don't leave now we'll be late for the lesson."

Brittany's eyes got wide when they fell on the clock above his head. "Crap."

"Lesson?" Santana asked, unable to help herself.

Brittany turned to Santana as she shrugged her coat on. "Mike and I give dance lessons at the Salsa club down the block. Then there's a big after hours dance till dawn. You should come check it out some time. We're there every night." Her face was lit up again in a huge smile and Santana suddenly felt like that smile was warming her from her very core.

The feeling freaked her out considerably and she turned to Mike. "You dance, Chang?"

His face broke out into a furious blush and he shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"He's amazing," Brittany gushed as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

"She's amazing," Mike replied, jutting a thumb in Brittany's direction. He stepped out from behind the bar and grabbed his coat. "You should definitely come by and let Britt teach you a thing or two.

"Oh I know Salsa," Santana told them both, that flirty voice appearing again, her eyes locked on Brittany's.

"I bet you do," Brittany replied, that ridiculously hot smirk making another appearance and making Santana's stomach roll with a wave of anticipation. She made a show of looking Santana up and down. "It's all in the hips." Her eyes met Santana's again. "It was really nice meeting you."

"You too," Santana replied, realizing they'd reached that awkward point of the night where the flirting was mutual enough to both seem to want to see each other again but not knowing how to proceed forward.

"Can I call you?" Brittany asked softly, her head tilting to the side and her tongue peeking out between her teeth in a gently teasing smile, her tousled hair and bright eyes making it difficult for Santana to focus.

Santana nodded dumbly and watched as Brittany giggled and reached over the bar for Santana's cell phone, quickly punching a series of digits. The cell in her other hand suddenly buzzed to life and she placed the brunette's phone back on the bar. "Now you have my number too."

"Thanks," Santana replied. She winced realizing how stupid she sounded and how her sudden lack of game was completely embarrassing. She felt like some nerdy twelve year old trying to score their first date. Totally clueless and completely struck in the presence of a beautiful girl.

"Bye, Pretty Girl," Brittany replied with a grin and a wave and before Santana could even respond the two of them were out into the night with Mike grinning at her like a champ.

"They're fun, huh?" the bartender asked her with a smile.

Santana had to grin. She loved her friends, but to suddenly have this girl burst into her life that was all sunshine and smiles and dancing made her feel kind of alive. "They're definitely something." She reached for her bag. "Can I get my tab please?"

"Britt got it for you," he told her with a knowing smile.

She smiled all the way home. That night she even dreamed of blonde curls bobbing to the beat as the curious stranger danced salsa circles around her.

The next morning she was awoken by a text buzzing through her phone.

_Funny how things work out, isn't it? I met the prettiest girl I've ever seen because Mike was running late and had me meet him at the bar instead of the club. I guess I owe him a beer or something. Should I happen to get a date with this pretty girl, I'll probably owe him dinner. What do you think? Can I buy you dinner so I owe him one too? ;-)_

_-Britt_

Santana had so many instant reactions to the text that she didn't even know how to feel. She was thrilled, terrified and stupefied in that moment and she had to grin because when a beautiful girl sends you a text like_ that_ you have to say yes. It's like a law or something.

She smiled and tapped back a response.

_A girl would have to be crazy to say no to that…_

_I'd love to._

_-S_

Santana read and re-read the text, silently debating if she sounded silly or desperate or something else that would cause Brittany to rescind the invitation. Finally she just hit send and she chewed on her thumbnail absently as she watched the text get sent off across cyberspace. A minute later a fresh wave of anticipation rolled over her as her cell phone dinged signaling a text message.

_Awesome! I'll pick you up tomorrow night at 7, Pretty Girl._

_-B_

Santana's stomach flip-flopped and a new batch of butterflies seemed to suddenly take flight at the thought of going on a date with the prettiest girl she'd ever seen. She sent over her address and the two of them texted silly, flirty things back and forth for a bit longer before Brittany had to get to work.


End file.
